Mesmerized by a Mini-Continent
Along the road in rural Madagascar, giant baobab trees sit like vegetable elephants and malnourished children dance in hopes that travelers will toss them money. Our van, lurching over the rutted Malagasy National Highway, had long passed the last wooden shanty when the front tire fell off and rolled away. Some of the passengers found this unsettling, but others agreed it was only an average debacle, climbing out of the van to mill around termite mounds.
As if driving in "bush taxis" wasn’t enough of a challenge on this Texas-sized, east African island, an electoral controversy early this year pretty much stopped travel completely. Flights rarely took off, roadblocks severed connections and fuel supplies slowed to a trickle. For a few confusing months, the country had two governments as Marc Ravalomanana, who claimed victory in the December election, jostled for power with corrupt despot Didier Ratsirika.
By August, Ratsirika had fled, the U.S. recognized the new government, and Madagascar again seemed safe for travel. A speedy recovery for the tourism industry will be crucial since Madagascar relies on its status as one of the world’s most stunning ecotourism destinations to steady its teetering economy.
Travelers accept Madagascar’s discomforts because the country houses some of Earth’s most unique wildlife. In the Spiny Desert, the green tentacle-like branches of "octopus trees" soar 30 feet in the air, while in the mountains, a small insect called the giraffe-necked weevil has a neck like a cherry picker. But perhaps the strangest creature of all is the Aye Aye, which seems like a fusion of monkey, bat and woodpecker. Over 80 percent of species in Madagascar are found nowhere else, making the country, in the eyes of biologists, less an island than a mini-continent.
Madagascar became an island 150 to 165 million years ago, allowing new species to evolve widely. When humans first drifted to the island from Africa and Indonesia beginning about 1000 B.C., it was as if they followed the wake of a second Noah’s Ark. They found lemurs the size of gorillas, hippos no bigger than pigs and enormous elephant birds. These animals disappeared long ago, and by the 21st century, 90 percent of the island’s original forests had been destroyed. Yet environmental groups still list Madagascar among the world’s top eight megadiversity nations—places given the highest priority for conservation. With more than 50 protected areas housing one-of-a-kind wildlife, the country has bet on tourism for environmental salvation.
The president of Conservation International, Russell Mittermeier, says it’s a good wager. "Madagascar could become one of the world’s premier ecotourism destinations over the next decade," he says. The new government has begun marketing ecotourism and rebuilding roads, but Roger Rakotomalala, owner of U.S.-Malagasy tour company Lemur 2000, asks customers to sign waivers before traveling to remote places like the famed Ranomafana National Park because he can’t guarantee how soon they"ll get there. The country needs to improve roads and hotels, he says, "But if the locals have a better life, I think it will open up immediately."
For travelers who can handle fluid plans and exposure to abject poverty, Madagascar offers the chance to spend tourist dollars where they will count. Foreigners can also volunteer with Earthwatch to help track lemurs or radio-collar Madagascar’s lynx-like fossa.
Flights to Madagascar start at about $1,500, and for a few thousand more, reputable outfits like Lemur 2000, Cortez Travel or Manaca offer all-inclusive packages with some green accommodation options. The tours are well suited to people who don’t speak French, and lack the time or temerity to negotiate a unique culture.
Typical rooms in Madagascar with common baths and no air conditioning can be had in exchange for the largest bill in the Malagasy currency, worth $5. First-class hotels are mostly confined to larger cities and touristy Nosy Be in the north. Most food is French, and $5 secures fine multi-course tributes to Parisian sidewalk caf? fare.
Visitors who linger in Madagascar often come to view even ominous setbacks with a Malagasy nonchalance. When our van lost its wheel, some of the passengers photographed a snake. The driver meanwhile reattached the tire, and we trundled down the road, gingerly avoiding tortoises.
JOSH HARKINSON, a former E intern, is a freelance writer based in San Francisco.